


Kid Stuff

by Mayalaen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Bathing/Washing, Caretaker Bobby, Comfort, Crying Dean, De-Aged Dean Winchester, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-10-06 11:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10333196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayalaen/pseuds/Mayalaen
Summary: Dean has been de-aged, and he refuses to do kid stuff, but he doesn't have a choice in the matter sometimes, and Bobby's there to pick up the pieces when that happens.





	1. The Accident

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this scene stuck in my head for a LONG time, and it never fit in any other fic I wrote, ~~so I'm just going to post it as a one-shot :)~~
> 
> Update: I couldn't help it. I wrote more.

Bobby couldn't help it. He was already protective of the boys, but after what happened, that only intensified. He sat on the couch, pretending to read a newspaper while Dean pretended he wasn't playing with toys on the floor.

The boy refused to stop at Walmart and pick up some kid-sized clothes. Refused to pin any of their clothes so he could wear them. Refused to be held when he woke up on the floor of a seedy motel room and his body was only three, maybe four years old.

He remembered everything about his life, and Bobby felt for him. Knew it was frustrating even if he'd never experienced it himself. A little over three feet tall and his fingers didn't work as well as they did before. He'd walked into a couple walls, hiding tears when it hurt more than it used to when he was big.

So Dean was sitting on the floor, not-playing with some toy cars and trucks that Sam brought home earlier in the day. Dean had pouted, but Sam insisted it had been in a box with some other stuff they needed.

The soft blanket Dean had taken a nap with had been in the box too, and Dean wasn't complaining about it even though it had dinosaurs all over it and clearly was meant for a kid. Apparently dinosaurs were acceptable for adults in kid bodies.

Bobby remembered to flip a page of his newspaper, because Dean was overly observant whether he was an adult or not, and if he figured out Bobby was watching him, he'd be pissed.

Dean was wearing one of his shirts. It was like a dress on him, but they couldn't talk him into anything else, and the socks fell off before he took two steps. He was sitting on the hardwood floor, making quiet 'vroom vroom' noises, looking up every once in a while to make sure nobody else heard him being a kid.

The box of kid stuff that definitely wasn't kid stuff was against the wall in the living room, about five feet away from where Dean was playing. There were more toys, some kid-sized underwear, shirts, socks, and pajama pants, because the thrift store had sold out of slacks and jeans with school starting again.

Dean kept eyeing the box. He knew there were more toys in there, and Bobby hid a smirk behind his newspaper as Dean scooted closer, then finally stood up and peered into the box.

One more glance toward Bobby, and Dean dug out a stuffed rabbit. He rubbed the soft fur over his cheek, then set it on the floor. Next he pulled out a Transformer. Bobby wasn't sure which one it was, but it was blue and white and had moving parts. Dean took it back to his play area that definitely wasn't a play area and stood in the middle of the toys he was not-playing with.

Bobby heard a soft gasp, and he looked up in time to see Dean's bottom lip wobble. He set his paper on the couch cushion to his right, but didn't get up. If he swooped in too quickly, Dean would be even more upset, and Bobby didn't know why the bottom lip was wobbling.

Then Bobby saw the puddle on the floor between Dean's feet. As he stood up, Dean started to sob. It was heartbreaking, deep sobs that made Bobby's chest tighten with sympathy. Dean had covered his face, the Transformer smashed up against his neck.

"C'mere, kiddo," Bobby said, hoping Dean wouldn't chafe at the endearment. It was something he called Dean all the time.

Dean sobbed as Bobby picked him up, and he pressed his face against Bobby's shoulder, shaking as he tried to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry!" Dean cried, his body jerking against Bobby's chest with the force of his sobs.

Bobby held him close and kissed the top of his head. "Nothin' to be sorry for," he said, cupping Dean's butt and not giving one shit that his shirt and jeans were getting wet from the urine that had run down Dean's legs and soaked the front of his shirt.

"I didn't mean to!" Dean blubbered.

"I know," Bobby said softly, rubbing Dean's back with his right hand.

"It just c-came out!" Dean said, hiccupping. "Why did it just come out?"

Bobby heard Sam come down the stairs, but turned and shook his head, letting Sam know he could handle it, and Sam quietly tip-toed back up the stairs, because Dean was downright devastated when he accidentally did kid things in front of Sam.

"It's all over me," Dean cried, "and I'm cold and my legs are itchy."

Dean's tears soaked the shoulder of Bobby's shirt as he walked to the downstairs bathroom, Dean's small hands fisted in the material. Bobby leaned over, an arm across Dean's back so he wouldn't drop him, and started the water in the tub, plugging it.

He stood Dean on the counter top and pulled the big shirt off, dropping it in the sink. Dean shivered, hands back to covering his face, and Bobby gently took the Transformer from him and set it on the back of the toilet.

"I'm sorry," Dean said again.

"It's going to be okay," Bobby said, then picked Dean up again and sat on the closed toilet seat while he waited for the bath to fill.

Dean melted against him, still sniffling, and Bobby kept rubbing Dean's back, cupping the back of Dean's head and holding him close.

"Do you want bubbles?" Bobby asked.

Dean squirmed against him, uncomfortable with the fact that he wanted them. Really wanted them. "Yeah," he whispered.

"I like bubbles too," Bobby whispered back and was rewarded with a very tiny snort from Dean.

Dean had only been in his little body for three days, and in that time he'd refused to take a bath. Showers only even though Bobby knew for a fact Dean took baths sometimes when the boys were staying at his house. Bobby was relieved that Dean wasn't fighting him on the bath. It would be a comfort, and it would get him clean and relaxed, maybe help ease him into taking a nap.

"Ready?" Bobby asked, and when Dean nodded against him, he held the boy out and slowly lowered him into the warm water before sliding off the toilet and kneeling on the floor. His knees would be killing him later, but Dean was worth it.

Especially when he breathed a shaky sigh of relief and poked at a bubble, lips tugging into a very small smile.

"You want any toys?" Bobby asked.

Dean's cheeks flushed more than they already were, red-rimmed eyes widening before he shook his head. "No," he said, looking down at the bubbles.

"You sure?" Bobby asked, then tsked, shaking his head. "It's a shame. I was looking forward to playing with those fish. They squirt water."

Dean bit his lip, then looked up at him. "Well, if you want to play with them, I'd play with you."

Bobby smiled. "I'd appreciate that," he said, nodding before he ruffled the boy's hair and stood up.

"You're coming right back, right?" Dean asked, brows furrowing with worry.

Bobby grunted as he stood up. "You bet. I'll be back before ya know it."

Dean smiled as he looked down and poked at more bubbles. "Thanks, Bobby."

Bobby couldn't wipe the smile off his own face as he hurried to get the toys. And truth be told, Bobby had just as much fun as Dean did, squirting water and making the fish swim through the bubbles.


	2. The Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean are up to something in the kitchen, and Bobby knows without a doubt he's going to be a test subject for whatever it is they're making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was going to be a one-shot, but I can't help it -- baby!Dean is too adorable!

Bobby heard a giggle from the kitchen, and he couldn't help but smile. He was finishing up some researching in the living room, papers and books spread out on the coffee table while Sam and Dean worked on something in the kitchen. Something secret.

Sam had come home with three big grocery bags full of stuff. Bobby had been dubbed Grumpy Gus, because he was too busy working to join them in the kitchen with the secret bags of fun stuff that Dean was only participating in because Sam wanted to do it. Dean was doing it for Sam and not at all because it was fun.

"What about this one?" Sam asked.

Dean giggled again, louder. "That looks like that thing we killed in Washington last year!"

Bobby still couldn't reconcile the tiny kid voice with the sentences that sometimes came out of the boy. Killing and rituals and swearing and all sorts of things came out of that little mouth, and it surprised Bobby every damn time, even though Dean had been de-aged for nearly a week.

"Well, that's what I was going for," Sam said, clearly having just as much fun as Dean was having. "I need more green jelly beans to make it look right. Gimme some of yours."

"Okay, but I need your yellow ones," Dean said, voice way too serious for a three-year-old working on super secret jelly-bean-related projects. "And gimme that thing. No, the other one. The one that tastes like ass."

Bobby rolled his eyes and shook his head. They hadn't gone out much since Dean had been shrunken down to his little size, but if they did, Bobby would have to talk with Dean about what he said out loud. Bobby didn't mind, but other adults in town might think Bobby was raising his "brother's kid" in an unsavory environment.

"What do you think of mine?" Sam asked.

"You forgot the snot," Dean said, then Bobby heard a grocery bag rustling. "Here, use this."

"Are you gonna eat this one if I put the snot on?" Sam asked.

Dean hesitated a moment, and Bobby strained his hearing just in case Dean was whispering. He heard more rustling of the bag, then Dean giggled.

"Bobby'll eat it," Dean said confidently.

"I don't think Bobby's gonna eat that," Sam said.

"Yeah, he will," Dean said. "He'll do it if _I_ give it to him."

Bobby sighed, shaking his head. No way he was going to eat something that was covered in snot, even if it was fake snot. He sat forward, closing his books and gathering all his papers into a pile. He took everything back into his office and set it on the desk. He learned after day one of Dean being kid-sized not to leave irreplaceable books on the coffee table. It had taken them nearly twenty minutes to get Dean to stop crying after he'd spilled orange juice over two of the books and most of the papers.

He walked out of the office, closing the door behind him, and headed for the kitchen. Dean was giggling again, and Bobby barely managed to wipe the stupid grin off his face by the time he made it through the living room and into the kitchen.

Dean was on his knees, small enough that even that much of a boost from the chair only made him waist-high to the kitchen table. The table was a mess of jelly beans, sprinkles, licorice, tubes of frosting, marshmallows, and edible glitter.

"We're not done yet!" Dean said, scowling at Bobby like he'd just interrupted an exorcism instead of the cookie decorating that was actually happening.

"You want me to wait in the living room?" Bobby asked, stropping on a dime.

Dean's left cheek was smeared with pink frosting and there was green glitter dusting his lips, neck, arms, and hands. His teeth were tinged blue, and there was a distinct lack of blue jelly beans on the table and cookies.

"Thanks, Bobby, you're awesome," Dean said, flashing that charming smile that worked whether he was 3 or 33 years old.

Bobby made his way back into the living room, politely ignoring the orange frosting on Sam's chin and the edible glitter in his hair.

"I need more yellow," Dean said.

"What are you making?" Sam asked.

"Your face," Dean said.

"Fine, I won't ask again," Sam said, and Bobby couldn't tell if Sam was actually huffy or faking it.

"It's a monster," Dean said, because he never could resist Sam.

"What kind of monster?" Sam asked.

"You'll see when I'm done," Dean said, then Bobby heard the grocery bag rustling again before a package was opened and a ton of tiny things went scattering all over the table and floor.

Sam didn't give him a hard time about it, and Bobby wouldn't either. Dean didn't mean to do things like that, and hopefully he was too interested in what they were doing to remember his hands didn't work as well as they did when he was an adult. It was hard to see him so upset.

"I get the yellow ones!" Dean said loudly.

Okay, so dumping all the tiny objects hadn't phased Dean a bit. Bobby breathed a small sigh of relief. Dean was having fun. Something he never had enough of, and Bobby was determined to make sure Dean had as much fun as possible this time around.

"'K, I'm done with all mine," Dean announced.

"Me too," Sam said, and the chairs scraped on the tile floor of the kitchen.

"Bobby!" Dean said as he ran into the living room in nothing but his Batman pajama bottom and top, glitter stuck to the fabric and more on his feet. "Bobby, want a cookie?"

Bobby smiled at Dean as the boy set five different cookies down on the coffee table, then proceeded to climb up Bobby's legs and onto his lap, leaving glitter all over Bobby's jeans. The living room would need vacuuming, and Bobby's clothes might never be the same again, but Bobby didn't mind. Not when Dean looked up at him with more joy in his eyes than Bobby had ever seen.

"That one's yours," Dean said, pointing at the cookie all the way to the right. "Made it just for you."

Bobby's chest suddenly felt a little tighter. "Is that a book?" he asked, reaching out and picking up the cookie, holding onto Dean with his left arm so Dean wouldn't tumble from his lap.

"Yeah, it's that one you've been looking for on the net," Dean said, proud of himself. "See, there's the symbol on the front, and there's the stitching, and there's the weird lettering you said was ancient Sand-skirt," he said, pointing at each detail.

"Sanskrit," Sam said, correcting Dean.

Dean giggled, knowing full well it was Sanskrit. "Geek!" he said, pointing at Sam.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head as he put his own cookies down on the coffee table, then sat down across from them on Bobby's easy chair.

"That was very thoughtful of you, Dean," Bobby said. "It looks so good, I almost don't want to eat it."

Dean's cheeks flushed a bit, but he tried to play it cool in the face of a compliment and rolled his eyes. "You _gotta_ eat it. They're good!"

"We tried all the flavors," Sam said.

"This one's chocolate chocolate chip," Dean said, pushing Bobby's hand up. "Eat it!"

Bobby looked Sam in the eye and tilted his head just a bit. A silent question of 'is it safe?' and Sam nodded. Bobby took a bite of the bottom left corner of the book, Dean grinning the whole time.

"You were right," Bobby said, "this _is_ too good to not eat."

Dean grinned, blue-tinted teeth on display. "Told ya."

"Yeah, you did," Bobby said, then took another bite of the palm-sized cookie with frosting, glitter, and jelly beans on it.

The cookie itself was good, but the sugar crammed on top of it was a bit much. Bobby couldn't have cared less because the look on Dean's face made all the sugar completely worth it.

"What's that one?" Bobby asked, pointing at the cookie in the middle with yellow jelly beans and glitter all over it.

Dean looked down at the cookie, then went still. Bobby could feel the change in Dean's mood immediately, and his left arm tightened around Dean protectively. Dean turned and pushed his face into Bobby's shirt, curling against Bobby.

"What's wrong, kiddo?" Bobby asked, setting the rest of his own cookie down on the couch cushion to his right, then rubbing Dean's leg with his free hand.

"It's scary," Dean whispered.

Bobby looked up at Sam, and both he and Sam realized what it was at the same time. Sam sat forward, ready to take the cookie into the kitchen and get rid of it, make it all better, but Bobby shook his head, and Sam sighed, sitting back to see what Bobby was going to do about it.

"Why's it scary?" Bobby asked.

"It's a monster," Dean said, words muffled because he was pushing his face against Bobby even harder.

Bobby looked down at the yellow eyes, the long white teeth, and the dark brown hair on a face he hadn't seen in years. He wasn't sure why Dean had chosen to make an Azazel cookie, but sometimes Dean just did things without thinking.

"You know what's good about a monster made out of sugar?" Bobby asked.

"What?" Dean asked, shivering just a bit.

"You can smash it, and it's not scary anymore," Bobby said.

Dean snorted. "I'm not a little kid."

Bobby nodded even though Dean couldn't see him. "I know. Doesn't matter how old you are. Smashing a cookie's fun, right?"

"I guess," Dean said, lifting his head and blinking up at Bobby.

Bobby leaned forward, made a fist, and brought it down on the Azazel cookie. Dean flinched, then his jaw dropped as Bobby pulled his hand back, pieces of cookie and jelly beans and frosting stuck to him.

Dean looked up at Bobby, surprise quickly changing to amusement, eyes lighting up and the corners of his mouth twitching. There was a small giggle, then a louder one as Dean swiped his finger through the mess on Bobby's hand and then sucked his finger clean.

"Tastes good," Dean said.

"You try smashing it now," Bobby said, and before he even finished speaking, Dean was scrambling off Bobby's lap and slamming his hand down on the already-smashed cookie.

Dean let out a laugh that was almost an evil cackle. He held his hand up, frosting falling off in chunks onto the table and floor. "He's dead!" Dean crowed before squishing the yellow jelly bean eyes one by one.

Bobby chuckled as Dean leaned down and ate some of the pieces directly off the table. Sam's smile was so big his dimples were showing.

"What did you make, Sam?" Bobby asked, gesturing to the cookies Sam had set on the table.

Sam leaned forward again. "I made a knife, a baseball, a house, and a car. I made a monster too," he said, eyes going to Dean to see if his brother was going to freak out over that monster too.

"This one's Bobby's too!" Dean said, grabbing the monster cookie and holding it up to Bobby. "Eat it, Bobby."

It looked disgusting. Whatever they had used for the snot on the thing really did look like snot. And Bobby knew it was definitely the one they'd been discussing. Bobby was ready to come up with some bullshit about being full from his other cookie when he looked up at Dean.

Dean, who was smiling at him. Who was open and trusting and happy for once in his damn life. Who was excited and knew without a doubt Bobby would do it if he asked him to. Who was forgetting all the things that had gone wrong in his life for five minutes and just being a kid.

Bobby caved. He stood no chance. He was going to eat it no matter what the hell was on the cookie because Dean wanted him to. He was holding it up, waiting for Bobby with mischief and excitement in his eyes.

Sam covered his mouth with a hand, and Bobby could see he was hiding a grin. He decided not to even ask Sam what was on the cookie. Why bother?

Bobby took a bite as Dean nearly squealed with laughter. It wasn't terrible. In fact, it tasted good. Sweet and a little sour. The texture, on the other hand, was awful, and Bobby had to quickly chew and swallow before his gag reflex kicked in. If he had taken a spoonful of the goo any other time in his life and hadn't associated it with snot, he might've been able to eat it without a problem, but all he could picture was snot in his mouth.

Dean hopped up and down, pointing at Bobby as Bobby swallowed the cookie. "He ate it! I told you he'd eat it!"

"Yes, you did," Sam said, turning his head because he couldn't hide the laughter anymore.

Dean put his hands on Bobby's knees, leaving frosting and glitter handprints on the fabric, and grinned up at Bobby. "How's it taste, Bobby?"

"Tastes good," Bobby said, then held the cookie up to Dean's lips. "Take a bite."

"Eww, no!" Dean said, hopping back, then running into the kitchen, laughing the whole way. "I'm gonna eat the marshmallows instead!"

Bobby set the cookie down on the coffee table and pinned Sam with a look. "If you ever tell me what was on that cookie, I'm kicking you out of the house."

Sam lost it, laughing so hard he held his stomach. Bobby picked up his cookie book again and nibbled on that one instead. It tasted much better than the snot cookie, and Bobby couldn't get over how detailed the thing was. It really did look like a book. It wasn't perfect. It had been made with the hand-eye coordination of a three-year-old after all, but it was perfect to Bobby.

Just as Bobby finished his cookie, a marshmallow hit him in the belly. Bobby grabbed the marshmallow and looked toward the kitchen, laughing when he saw Dean standing there with a bag of marshmallows and a grin on his face.

Food hit nearly every surface of the living room over the next ten minutes or so. It was Bobby's first marshmallow fight, and he suspected it was theirs too. The kitchen and living room were a mess, but Dean and Sam were having fun, and that was all that mattered.


	3. The Fort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's not a little kid. Not really. Sure, he's hiding from something that's upsetting him in a fort he made, but that doesn't mean he's a little kid.

Bobby came downstairs, frowning when it was a little too quiet. Sam was in the office, and Bobby nodded at him as he walked by. He was doing research for a hunter who had called Bobby for help, and he'd been at it for hours.

The lights in the living room were on, the TV was off, and Bobby chuckled when he saw the pillows had been removed from the couch. It was nearly eleven o'clock at night, and Dean was probably way beyond tired, but he wasn't in his bed.

Bobby walked into the kitchen, unable to stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips when he saw the sheet draped over the kitchen table. The couch cushions formed walls around the table, and the kitchen chairs fortified the cushions, keeping them in place.

The kitchen lights were on, but Bobby could still see the light from the flashlight inside the fort Dean had made. Bobby got down on his knees by the table.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dean said, voice so soft Bobby barely heard him.

Bobby lifted the sheet and crawled in, shuffling around until he was sitting on two throw pillows from the couch. Dean was sitting across from him on a nest of pillows from the couches and beds, flashlight in hand, and the stuffed rabbit in his lap. He was absently running his fingers through the rabbit's fur.

"Sucks balls," Bobby said, because reassurance and trying to find the silver lining would only upset Dean more.

Dean nodded, hugging the rabbit closer to his chest. He yawned and rubbed at his left eye, but stubbornly sat up straighter before Bobby could mention going to bed.

"Ya know, it's kinda selfish of me," Bobby said slowly, then sprawled out on the pillows next to Dean, "but I'm enoyin' havin' ya both here."

Dean hesitated a few seconds, then he scooted closer to Bobby and snuggled up against his left side, resting his head on the inside of Bobby's arm and wrapping his left arm over Bobby's chest. He was so small that his little hand didn't even reach to Bobby's right side.

"I'm kinda pissed at him," Dean said, the rabbit squished between them.

"Cas would've fixed you if he could'a," Bobby said even though they'd talked it over and Dean heard it all before.

"But maybe I would've been fine," Dean said.

"Maybe," Bobby said, reaching up to run his fingers through Dean's messy hair, "but we kinda like havin' you around. And if Cas thought the risk was too great and he might'a killed you trying to make you big again, maybe we should trust him. He cares about you, ya know."

Dean rubbed his nose on Bobby's shirt. "I know. It just sucks."

"Yeah, it does," Bobby said, closing his eyes.

He wanted to fix it all for Dean. Wanted to call Cas back and demand he fix Dean. The Winchesters had made it through so much even when the odds were stacked against them so many times, and there _was_ a chance Dean would live through the transition.

But the thought of losing Dean was too much. They'd lost so much, and Bobby was damn well going to hang onto his boys as hard as he could. It would take Dean two years to grow up again, and it was going to be hell for the kid, but it wouldn't kill him, and even though Bobby wanted to fix it, to make it all better for Dean, he didn't want to risk Dean's life to do it faster.

Besides that, he liked having the boys with him at the house. Hunting was out of the question for Dean, and Bobby wouldn't admit it to Dean, but he liked taking care of the boy. Giving him things he hadn't had the last time around when he'd been little.

He didn't know if Dean realized how much he was acting his age, but Bobby's heart warmed every single time he saw Dean doing all the little things like licking pizza sauce directly off the plate and falling asleep on top of Sam with his rabbit clutched to his chest while they were watching TV in the evening.

Bobby was pretty sure Sam was enjoying it all too. Being the big brother for once, albeit carefully, because if Dean found out, he would stop whatever he was doing and play tough guy for a while.

Sam had a blast making breakfast with Dean in the mornings. Adding bacon and fruit to the pancakes so they looked like faces. Loved taking walks with Dean and Bobby, watching as Dean picked flowers and insisted on putting them in Sam's hair.

And the way Dean would curl up in bed with Sam at night when Sam would read to him was almost too damn much for Bobby's heart to take.

Dean wouldn't let Sam read kiddie books, but Sam didn't seem to mind reading whatever he could get his hands on, especially when Dean would giggle at any jokes or obvious mistakes in the books. Dean had chuckled about the endless supply of bullets in the hero's gun for days after Sam read him the last book.

"I'm kinda scared," Dean whispered.

Bobby kept running his fingers through Dean's hair. "What're ya scared of?"

Dean huffed out a laugh. "Everything."

"Nothin' can get ya when you're in a fort and you got two bad-ass hunters lookin' out for ya," Bobby said, voice gruff.

Dean snorted, but he didn't argue. It sounded like an amused snort, and that was good enough for Bobby.

"Would you feel better if I showed ya how to work the failsafe in the panic room?" Bobby asked.

"I can't get the door closed," Dean said miserably. "I'm not strong enough."

Bobby tsked. "Dean, you really should know me better than that. You don't think I planned for a situation where I'd be too weak to get the door closed?"

Dean lifted his head and looked Bobby in the eye. "Really?"

Bobby looked up at Dean and smiled. "You bet'cha. Punch in a three-digit code, hit the red button, and that door closes by itself."

Dean ducked his head, then flopped back down against Bobby. "Can you show me?" he asked, then yawned.

"I'll show you first thing tomorrow morning," Bobby promised.

Dean was quiet for a moment or two, and Bobby heard him yawn again. The kid was fighting sleep.

"I was a jerk to Cas," Dean said.

Bobby sighed, resting his hand on Dean's arm. "He knows you were upset."

"Yeah, but still...," Dean said sadly.

"Well, next time you see him, apologize," Bobby said.

"I called him an asshole," Dean said, his words muffled as he pushed his face into Bobby's shirt.

"Ya know," Bobby drawled, "I saw him eyein' up those cookies last time he was here. Maybe you could make a few just for him. Apologize and give him the cookies."

"He doesn't need to eat," Dean said, sniffling.

Bobby resisted the urge to wrap Dean up and hug away all the hurt, and instead he rubbed Dean's arm and huffed out a laugh. "You tellin' me he wouldn't melt if you gave him cookies you made with your own two hands and looked up at him with them big eyes and said you were sorry?!"

Dean chuckled, sniffling again. "That's kinda evil."

Bobby snorted. "Hey, you might as well take advantage of how cute you are right now. Already saw you doin' it with Sam, and I'm pretty sure you got me a few times too."

And there it was. A tiny giggle. Bobby smiled.

"I would never do such a thing," Dean said, then yawned even bigger than he had the other times.

"Sure ya would," Bobby said, poking Dean in the belly and grinning when the kid giggled and flinched.

Dean yawned yet again and snuggled even closer, grabbing a chunk of Bobby's shirt with his left hand. Within moments his breathing evened out and his body relaxed against Bobby.

Bobby considered climbing out from under the table and taking the kid upstairs, putting him to bed, but it was comfortable in the fort. They were safe and tucked away where monsters couldn't get them, resting on a nest of pillows.

Instead he fell asleep with his arm around Dean, the kid drooling onto his shirt, and the stuffed rabbit's fur tickling the skin of his belly where his shirt had ridden up.


	4. The Sniffles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's come down with something, and he's not at all willing to get that cold medicine anywhere near his taste buds.

"No!"

"Dean, you have to-"

"No!"

Bobby heard a heavy sigh from the family room. Sam was getting frustrated, and Dean always knew exactly how to push his big-little brother's buttons. Sam had never dealt with a sick kid before, so Bobby decided to take pity on him, closing his books, making sure to lock the door to his office before he wandered out into the family room.

"No! I don't wanna!" Dean whined again.

Sam was usually very good with Dean. Patient and loving. Protective of him and didn't mind all the ways Dean changed since getting shrunk. He was understanding of Dean's moods and fast-changing emotions. But what he couldn't seem to handle was when something needed to be done and Dean fought it.

"Dean, you're sick," Sam said. "You need to take the medicine or you're going to get even more sick."

"No!"

"Do you want to go to the hospital?" Sam asked, voice raising just a bit.

Bobby winced at the silence that followed because he knew what was coming next. Sure enough, he walked into the family room just in time for Dean to burst into tears.

"I don't wanna go to the hospital!" Dean cried, big tears running down his flushed cheeks. He was standing in the middle of the family room, hands clenched into fists, which did nothing to make him at all intimidating because he was wearing dinosaur pajama bottoms, his hair was sticking up in all different directions, and there was snot dribbling from his nose.

Poor Sam was sitting on the coffee table with a bottle of children's cold medicine in one hand, a spoon in the other, and a completely bewildered and slightly guilty expression on his face. The relief washed over Sam when he caught sight of Bobby.

"C'mere, kiddo," Bobby said, picking Dean up and walking into the kitchen.

It always helped to have a change of venue when dealing with an upset kid. A room change took them out of the situation and calmed them just a little, and Dean grabbed hold of Bobby's shirt as he pushed his face into the space between Bobby's neck and left shoulder. Bobby grimaced as snot and tears got wiped onto his skin and Dean's hot, heaving breaths ghosted over his neck.

Sam trailed behind them, and when Bobby set Dean down on the counter, Sam put the cold medicine and spoon down within Bobby's reach.

"You want me to do anything?" Sam asked.

Bobby yanked a paper towel free of the roll, then wet it under the faucet. "That scroll isn't going to translate itself," he said, glancing at Sam.

Sam nodded, giving Bobby a small smile of thanks. "I'm on it," he said before heading for the office.

Dean was still crying, but the intensity of his distress had died down significantly. "I don't wanna take it," he said as Bobby wiped the tears and snot from his face, hoping the damp paper towel would also cool Dean off a little.

Bobby tossed the dirty paper towel into the sink, then anchored his hands on either side of Dean's legs and leaned down, giving Dean his serious face that usually got the boy squirming.

"Are you figthin' your brother on takin' your medicine?" Bobby asked.

And there it was. Dean squirmed and looked down at his lap, guilty expression on his face. "It tastes like shit," he mumbled.

"There are other ways of gettin' it into ya," Bobby said.

Dean looked up at him, scowling. "What's that supposed to mean?" Bobby hadn't meant it as a threat, but apparently Dean took it as one.

"I could go to the store and pick up some capsules," Bobby said. He didn't blame the kid for hating the taste. Damn stuff tasted awful.

Dean's bottom lip trembled. "I can't swallow pills anymore," he said, and it was a whimper more than anything else.

"Then you've gotta take the liquid," Bobby said, nodding toward the bottle of icky syrup on the counter.

"I don't wanna," Dean said, just in case Bobby hadn't heard him the other times.

"You don't wanna feel better?" Bobby asked, noticing the circles under Dean's eyes, which were darker than earlier.

"It makes my stomach hurt," Dean said, giving the syrup a dirty look.

"Okay, so it tastes bad and makes your stomach hurt," Bobby said with a nod. "If I can fix those two things, will you take it?"

"You can't fix it," Dean said, brow furrowing. "It's still gonna taste like shit even if you add sugar to it or somethin'."

"You didn't answer my question," Bobby said.

Dean thought about it a moment, then nodded. "Okay. If you can make it not taste like shit and not hurt my stomach, I'll take it."

"Okay, don't move," Bobby said, patting Dean's leg.

"I'm not a little kid," Dean said, scowling again. "I'm not gonna roll off the counter like a baby."

Bobby ignored the comment and turned around, opening a cupboard near the fridge and pulling out the Maalox. Next he pulled an orange soda out of the fridge before setting both items next to Dean. Dean's body was too small for the full dose of Maalox, but he poured a small amount into the measuring cup, then filled it the rest of the way with the cold syrup.

"Now it's gonna taste even more like shit," Dean said, disgusted look on his face.

"If this doesn't work, I'll let you kick me," Bobby said.

"In the nuts?" Dean asked, grinning for the first time since he'd walked into Bobby's bedroom, sniffling and coughing the night before.

"No," Bobby said, opening the can of soda. "Now what I want you to do is dump this into your mouth, but don't swallow it until the soda can is at your lips. Quick swallow the medicine, then take a big gulp of soda. Your taste buds barely have time to realize something foul-tasting is in your mouth before you get the flavor of orange soda."

Dean looked at the soda, then the cup of medicine, then back to the soda again before he looked Bobby in the eye. "You sure this'll work?"

Bobby nodded. "Yup."

Dean sighed. "Okay."

Bobby handed Dean the measuring cup, but he kept his hand under Dean's chin just in case Dean dribbled, the can of soda in his left hand and already moving to Dean's lips by the time Dean tiled his head back, dumping the medicine into his mouth.

Bobby held the can up to Dean's lips, and Dean grabbed it with both hands, dropping the measuring cup onto the floor as he desperately sucked on the can of soda. After a few pulls, Dean leaned back, licking his lips. It took him a moment as he tried to find a way to complain about the awful thing Bobby had made him do, but then the corners of his lips tugged into a tiny smile.

"Where'd you learn that trick?" Dean asked.

"You're not the first person I've loved who hated the taste of cold medicine," Bobby said, remembering how upset Karen would get whenever she was sick.

She didn't do sick very well, and the sour look on her face whenever she had to take any sort of medicine tugged at his heartstrings. Orange soda became a regular purchase whenever his wife wasn't feeling well, and it warmed his heart that he was able to make her feel just a little better even when she was very sick.

Dean smiled, then launched himself off the counter. Bobby's quick reflexes saved the kid from getting dumped onto the floor.

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean said, wrapping his arms around Bobby's neck and his legs around Bobby's middle.

Bobby turned and walked into the family room, leaving the mess for later clean-up, and sat down on his rocking chair. He turned the TV on with the remote, finding some cartoons that Dean insisted he didn't like watching and only tolerated them because Bobby was definitely the one who wanted to watch them.

Dean settled in on Bobby, legs sprawled over his thighs, head on Bobby's left arm and chest. Bobby reached across the small table between his two chairs and managed to snag the sheet Dean had been using in the other chair, then pulled it over Dean's legs.

"How's the stomach feel?" Bobby asked, his left hand coming to rest over Dean's little tummy, knowing the warmth would help.

"It's fine," Dean said, eyelids already drooping.

He'd been up and down during the night, not able to sleep very long because of the sniffling, aches, and chills, his fever finally breaking at around five o'clock that morning.

"Your ears hurtin'?" Bobby asked.

Dean's eyelids closed for a few seconds, then he shook himself awake. "Huh?"

"Are your ears sore?" Bobby asked.

"Nuh-uh," Dean said, then yawned. 

"How 'bout your throat?"

"Nuh-uh," Dean said as his eyes closed.

Bobby smiled as Dean's body relaxed against him in sleep. He was still warm, but it was much better than it had been last night, and Bobby turned the volume down on the TV, hoping Dean would get a good nap.

Sam walked in a few minutes later, sitting down on the edge of the couch cushion. "You okay? Need me to do anything?" he whispered.

Bobby shook his head. "Nah. We're good. Translation going okay?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Just wanted to check on him."

"He only fights you because he can," Bobby said, taking note of the small flash of hurt on Sam's face. "Bein' a little shit because he knows you won't make him behave."

Sam smiled, nodding again as he stood up. "Yeah."

"And he probably remembers every damn time he took care of you when you were sick," Bobby said. "It's hard for Dean to be on the other end of this."

"I know," Sam said. "I know how-"

"Sit with us!" Dean said, the words slurred because he was half asleep. "Watch cartoons," he said around a yawn, pointing at the other chair.

Sam smiled as he sat down exactly where Dean had told him to sit. As much as Sam was unsure around Dean nowadays, he still loved him and wanted to make Dean happy. Seeing him content on Bobby's lap, demanding that Sam sit with them, had smoothed the worry lines out of Sam's forehead and relaxed his shoulders.

Dean fell asleep again, his breathing a little noisier than Bobby would have liked it to be, but getting much-needed rest while Sam and Bobby kept watch over him.


End file.
